When we visited London last summer, Adam had to stop me from going crazy buying Kate and William souvenirs in the gift shop at Westminster Abbey. I didn’t even ask if he was interested in seeing the special display of wedding photos on exhibition there. If the wedding did nothing for Adam, he was certainly in the minority. What is it about a royal wedding that pulls people in like a magnet, that convinces people burdened by their own lives and problems to turn their attention so fully to the love lives of people they’ve never met?
The British people in 1947 were no exception. Historians refer to the United Kingdom in this juncture as “Austerity Britain,” a bombed-out country still rebuilding from the one-two punch of the Great Depression and World War II. This austerity proved to be a somewhat awkward backdrop for the lavish wedding of Princess Elizabeth and Philip Mountbatten. The British people also weren’t completely sold on Philip. Just what kind of family did this prince in exile come from? And was he good enough for Princess Elizabeth? Maybe it shouldn’t be surprising that, on his wedding day, Prince Philip arrived at the altar fresh from drinking a gin and tonic. Tanqueray Gordon & Co Ltd holds a Royal Warrant from Queen Elizabeth II as “Gin Distillers.”
I know very little about the November 1947 wedding of Elizabeth and Philip, but that needn’t be the case. The BBC’s online archives include a 17-minute newsreel of the day that is an interesting watch even if it does lack sound. In a 2007 article published in the Telegraph to mark the 60th anniversary of this wedding, author Elizabeth Grice did a nice job contrasting the royal wedding with Britain’s harsh economic reality, especially when describing the crowds that came to view public displays of the royal couple’s wedding gifts in 1947:
“To a make-do-and-mend nation, still rationed to 1 oz bacon and 2 oz butter a week, and encouraged to cook a sea creature called snoek* (‘best not to try serving it as it is’), the display had a surreal quality.”
A lavish wedding in the face of austerity: sure, I can relate to that. I planned my own wedding when I was a graduate student living off a tiny stipend each month. It seemed strange to plan seating arrangements and select menus and think about cake flavors for a far-off party when I had a budget of $25 a week to spend on groceries. Princess Elizabeth was on a budget leading up to her wedding too, at least in the sense that she was limited by ration coupons. The royal family famously participated in the ration program during and immediately after World War II in order to show solidarity with the British people. Although they did make a good faith effort to limit their purchases, they were also allotted far more ration coupons than anyone else. Grice writes that British women were so excited for Princess Elizabeth’s wedding that they mailed her their ration coupons to help her pay for her wedding dress. (It was illegal to give them away, so these were promptly returned).
Let’s get back to the gin. Grice describes Prince Philip post-G&T on his wedding day as “fortified” and looking “as if he was enjoying himself.” Interesting. God knows what Princess Elizabeth thought of this drinking, but we do have a clearer picture of her views on gin now. In the first episode of Monarchy: The Royal Family at Work, a BBC television program (re-aired in the States on PBS) in which camera crews were given unprecedented access to the Queen’s schedule, the Queen’s personal bartender (actually he’s called the Yeoman of the Cellars) gives a tutorial on how to make her favorite drink. It consists of one part Tanqueray gin, two parts Dubonnet, one lemon slice, and two ice cubes. You don’t just throw all of that in a cup and hope for the best either. First you pour in the gin—then the Dubonnet. Next you lay the lemon slice very gently into the liquid to avoid splashing the sides of the cup. Then you put the two ice cubes on top of the lemon. The most important thing to know about this cocktail? The Queen is the only one allowed to drink it. In a party at Buckingham Palace, it is prepared for her and taken to her alone on a serving tray. No one else can have one...not even Prince Philip.
It’s a good thing too. This drink was a bit strong for me, although maybe I could build up a tolerance if I drank one every day before lunch, as the Queen is reported to do. Right now, if I had more than one of these cocktails, I’d probably be able to convince myself I was the Queen of England.
Where to buy: Tanqueray and Dubonnet are readily available in American liquor stores. If you want your own personal Yeoman of the Cellars to make it for you, that’s a little less accesible.
*I was hoping for something that resembled the Loch Ness Monster and/or an eel. Don’t get your hopes up—it’s just a fish.
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